Have Idiot, Will Travel (Eponymous Blog)

Here's the deal. I turned twenty-seven, and though I should have seen it coming - in recent months I had taken up improv classes, started designing the layout for the tiered herb garden I planned to grow on my porch, told my boyfriend that I planned to store my eggs in a cryogenic freezer (alongside Walt Disney) until I'm sixty and will have kids then, and announced to my friends and family that I was quitting my TV job to start my "button jewelry" business - I suddenly found myself careening toward a breakdown in the classic sense. I'm talking the hair-pulling, mascara-streaming-down-your-face-while-you-clutch-scissors-and-tear-the-sofa-to-shreds kind of breakdown. So to avoid all that, I've decided to do something that's a solution to nothing: I am moving to Paris. The plan right now is to stay for one month and see what happens. Here's the problem: I planned this trip to Paris with the little bit of money I've been saving (probably for an unforeseen, impulsively planned stay in Paris), I got the flight, the apartment, the whole she-bang, and within the next few weeks, the freelance job I was working ended a month early, and I was also hit with a series of unexpected financial setbacks - which I won't detail here because numbers are like Ambien to me. So, now I have a month to kill in LA and another to spend in Paris. I would cancel, but the apartment and flight are already paid for. Plus, to not go now would be so anti-climactic, it would feel like defeat. After five years of drifting aimlessly from freelance job to freelance job, I finally have one, singular goal: to make it to Paris and live there for a month... I just have the added challenge of having to do so on a pygmy-size budget. But I guess in these days where Mr. Recession, that annoying bum who resides in your attic and eats all of your food while you're at work, just won't freaking leave, this is probably exactly what I was asking for. I mean, who even dares to set foot near Europe when the the dollar is 64¢ to the Euro (and dropping)? So, now I'm going to drag the worthless American dollar and my worthless American ass across the Atlantic in my worthless American wallet and see what fun I can muster up for less than $20 Euros a day. Can it be done? I guess I'll find out. That, or I'll return to the States 10 pounds lighter - because The Poverty Diet never fails! A Paris, cet con va!